The Jacksons' Demise
by MagicWriterK
Summary: What if Percy Jackson continued, but with Harry Potter's plot? What if an old foe returned and eliminated Percy and Annabeth in their attempt to protect their children? What if said children were left to fend for themselves after this tragic incident? Who is this old foe? What shall be the fate of the Jackson children? Two-shot. Credit to Burdge for the cover!
1. The Beginning Of The End

It started with a crash.

The great booming crash jarred Percy and Annabeth from their comfortable position snuggled against each other on the master bed upstairs. Twisting her features into a quizzical look, Annabeth froze the screen with a click of the remote and spared a glance at her husband. Percy's look of concentration was etched deeply in his face, his demigod instincts kicking into full gear. Annabeth's hand closed over the drakon-bone sword hidden underneath her pillow, and Percy had Riptide out in a single deft motion.

"Go check on the girls," Percy whispered, climbing soundlessly off the bed. "I'll check downstairs."Annabeth was clearly was not happy with this arrangement. Nevertheless, she nodded and sprinted lightly down the hallway, taking off for the nursery.

Annabeth was clearly was not happy with this arrangement. Nevertheless, she nodded and sprinted lightly down the hallway, taking off for the nursery. Percy leapt deftly off the bed and held Riptide in front of him in a defensive position, his seagreen eyes alert and scanning for any signs of danger. Out the door...down the hallway...down the stairs...into the kitchen...

He stopped short in the doorway to the kitchen. The front door was on the other end of the kitchen, and Percy was absolutely positive the intruder was close. The son of Poseidon sucked in a breath. That presence...it felt so...familar...yet Percy could not wrap his seaweed-filled brain around it.

With trepidation, he stepped into the open. The sight that greeted him nearly knocked the demigod clean off his feet.

"Hello, Percy," Luke Castellan smiled.

* * *

Annabeth's breath hitched as she stood protectly over her younger daughter's crib. She did her best to regulate her breathing by matching it with the soft snores from her older daughter's bed. Where was Percy? Surely dealing with a foolish mortal intruder would not take very long for a son of Poseidon to handle...so why was the whole house being suffocated in a deadly silence? Her gaze fell upon the youngest Jackson. Her gorgeous blond 'princess curls' framed her round little face. Her closed eyelids concealed adorable seagreen eyes that would shine with innocent playfulness once she awoke. Moving on to the toddler bed, Annabeth's smile grew as she spotted her older raven-haired daughter, curled up under her bedsheets with her mouth wide open in a loud snore that matched her father's, complete with a trickle of drool.

CRASH

Annabeth's motherly moment was interrupted by another loud sound from downstairs. Something like an angry, broken scream tortured her ears.

She forced herself to swallow the shrill yell fighting to claw its way out of her throat. How badly she wanted to shout her husband's name! But being a daughter of wisdom itself, she was well aware that giving away her (not to mention her daughters) location could be fatal.

* * *

"Luke?" Percy heard a strangled voice choke out the son of Hermes' name. It took a few moments for him to realize he was the source.

"Yes, that is my name," Luke's strained smile widened.

Percy began to stammer, his face as white as the moonlight pouring in through the window. "I-I thought you were..."

"Dead?" Luke finished for him. "Not anymore."

Percy couldn't help himself. His face broke into an earsplitting grin. "Welcome back, Luke!"

He moved towards his formerly deceased friend, who appeared to have aged regularly over the years despite his death.

He was met with a blade on his chest.

The beaming smile wavered, suddenly unsure of itself.

"Luke?" he said.

"Sorry, Percy," Luke apologized without a hint of remorse. "But you're not going to leave this room alive."

The stunned son of Poseidon barely dodged the swing at his neck by ducking to the left.

"Luke, stop! It's me, Percy Jackson!" he cried desperately, reluctantly bring Riptide up to block another swing by Backbiter.

"I know who you are, fool!" Luke shouted, going for the green-eyed man's shoulder. He managed a glancing blow that ripped his t-shirt. "You are the 'Saviour of Olympus', and lord Kronos wants you dead!"

CRASH

Percy, caught off guard, was thrown backwards into a chair. Both fallen objects created a noise like thunder - or worse, Percy snoring - as they hit the tiles.

"Kronos is gone, Luke!" Percy exclaimed, leaping on to his feet. "We defeated him!"

" _ **You**_ defeated him," Luke snarled. "I succumbed to you and the daughter of Athena in a moment of weakness."

"No, Luke," Percy's voice was filled with pain. "You made the right decision. You saved lives."

Luke growled, "If you shut your mouth _now_ , I might kill you quickly."

"I'm sorry, Luke. But I won't let you get to my family."

With that, Percy stepped back, his movements regretful yet filled with determination and purpose. The faucet of the kitchen sink exploded like a blocked up well bursting into joyous freedom. But there was nothing joyous about this situation. The forceful stream of water cut through the air like a knife, ready to introduce the son of Hermes' face to a torrent of sink water.

It took a moment for Percy's mind to register that everything had stopped. Time seemed to stand still, freezing Percy and the rushing liquid in their position. No...time truly _**had**_ stopped!

Luke's eyes glowed with a bright malicious mirth, his irises flashing with a wicked golden light as he leaned over Percy's frozen form. Seagreen eyes widened as Luke lifted Backbiter, positioning it directly above Percy's chest. The smirk was still present.

If Percy possessed the ability to move his lips, he would have begged Luke to spare him, he had a family to protect! Or at the very least, take him and spare his wife and young daughters, anything but harm them. Anything in the world.

He saw snippets of his life, his first quest with Annabeth, holding up the sky, the titan war, Tartarus, the giant war, his daughters' birth. Perhaps life really did flash before your eyes before you met Charon for your one-way trip down the Styx. Percy had never expected to discover the answer so early in his life.

"Good-bye, Perseus."

Percy Jackson was no more.

* * *

Annabeth felt more than heard the water gush out of the faucet. The floor trembled with the force of the stream, and Annabeth's death grip on the crib tightened. Why would Percy need to use his powers on a mortal intruder? And if there were monsters, they surely would have made a racket loud enough for her to hear...her heart clenched in apprehension. Not knowing was a terrible curse for a child of Athena.

Suddenly, everything fell into a dreadful silence, a foreboding silence. Annabeth's breath hitched, waiting and listening for any sound of an approaching threat.

Thunk

Thunk

Thunk

Someone was ascending the stairs, not bothering to tread quietly.

"Percy?" Annabeth whispered hopefully, unable to stop herself.

"No," a male voice replied from the darkness of the hallway.

The man sauntered out of the shadows, his face plastered into a smirk, his hands clasped behind his back.

"Sorry Annabeth, but Percy's not coming back," Luke Castellan smiled at her with flashing golden eyes.

* * *

Terror and ecstasy grappled for control in Annabeth's very core.

Luke.

Luke. He was back from the dead. But where was Percy?

A drop of red liquid hit the carpet. Annabeth stifled a small gasp. Luke's hands were stained in a bright red substance - blood, and from the look of it, _fresh_ blood.

"Step aside, Annie," he requested, hs voice oozing false sweetness.

Annabeth found herself paralyzed, trapped in a state of shock and unable to so much as close her open mouth.

Luke's eye turned colder, and his dripping fingers held Backbiter a bit higher. "I said step aside.

"Never." Despite her trepidation and befuddlement, her voice was hard. Her eyes were cold slabs of steel, unyielding and determined.

"Now, I really don't have to kill you, so don't give me a reason to," Luke said casually, tracing his finger along the blood-stained edge of Backbiter. "Kronos requires the son of Poseidon and the children dead, but he pardoned the daughter of Athena." His blond head tilted upward, and his eyes met hers. "The prophecy does not concern you." Annabeth silently cursed that horrid, despicable, damned prophecy. The prophecy that endangered her daughters.

The gears in Annabeth's brain had been turning, spinning at the velocity only a true genius could achieve. And suddenly they clicked into place.

The eyes.  
His eyes were not their original blue.  
That meant...

Unfortunately, Luke took advantage of her epiphany and lunged for the small bed on her left. The shriek she had been holding back ripped from her throat like a terrified, savage beast. Instinct took over, and she threw herself in front of the slumbering child.

Luke seemed unfazed by the blood leaking from the deep gash in Annabeth's right - and more importantly, dominant - arm. "Oh dear."

The daughter of Athena grit her teeth. Shielding both of her daughters and fending off her grief at Percy's death would be a tough feat indeed, but Annabeth Jackson did not give up. Not while there was still hope.

Alas, it was not enough. Annabeth soon lay on the ground, heaving great gulps of air into her lungs, her face covered in sweat and blood. She had fought bravely, but her strength was waning. She hardly even felt the pool of warm fluid gathering around her trembling body.

"Please, Luke," she rasped. One clammy, trembling hand reached out to the former son of Hermes, stretching desperately. "Please don't hurt my girls...Luke..."

"Y-y-you...I know it's not really you b-but..." Annabeth paused to hack up a mouthful of blood. The metallic taste displeased her.

"You broke your promise once, Luke...don't...not...again..."

Annabeth's grey eyes would never see again.

* * *

 **Me: Please don't hurt me, my friends already took care of that.**

 **Me: THERE WILL BE A PART TWO DON'T FLAME ON ME YET**

 **Me: THERE WILL BE TIME FOR RAGING AND FLAMING IN THE NEXT CHAPTER, AFTER EVERYTHING HAS BEEN EXPLAINED IN GREATER DETAIL**

 **Me: AND PLEASE, LUKE CASTELLAN FANGIRLS, JUST HEAR ME OUT IN THE NEXT CHAPTER. THEN YOU CAN FLAY ME ALIVE.**

 **Me: Kudos to anyone who can guess what I was hinting at, as to why Luke would so such a thing! ;)**


	2. Truth And Change

"You broke your promise once, Luke...don't...not...again..."

The gleaming gold of Luke Castellan's eyes slowly faded, giving way to pale, mortified shaking knees fell to the bloody carpet with an utterly revolting squelch, his hands white as the moonlight spilling in through the violently torn curtains.

"Annabeth..." he whispered, his voice tight with a paralyzing, heartbreaking, pain. " _No_. No no _no **no**_!"

"This wasn't supposed to happen!" he moaned, tearing at his blond hair with blood-stained fingers. "This is all my fault! I should have been able to fight him, I should have been able to break free of Kronos' control! I don't want him to use his control over time to bring me back to life, not if this is what he makes me do!"

He let out a low, mournful wail, which turned into a shuddering heave, which dissolved into sobs.

"Annabeth...Percy...Thalia...I'm so sorry..."

* * *

A young man sprints through the city under the cover of darkness. He holds one bundle under each arm, handling them like footballs made of glass.  
His breathing is short, small hiccups interjecting every now and then. Two thin strips of liqiud, each beginning at one of his eyes, cuts through the grime caked on to his face.

Finally, he arrives at his destination. It is an ordinary house with white shutters, a peeling brown door, and a squeaky red garage. There is nothing abnormal about this that will soon man sets down the bundles on the porch's bench, first the seagreen one, then the grey one. A loud snore erupts from the grey bundle. He peers over at the girl crammed inside, a

But that will soon change.

The man sets down the bundles on the porch's bench, first the seagreen one, then the grey one. A loud snore erupts from the grey bundle. He peers over at the girl crammed inside, a two-year old with permanently tousled black hair and a sleeping manner reminiscent of Percy Jackson's. The seagreen one shifts slightly, and a beam of moonlight hits the round face of the occupant. A two-month old with gently curled blond hair and angelic face, she sleeps fitfully, almost as if she realizes that her life is about to change drastically.

The man sighs, and pulls a sheet of paper from his cloak.

He places it gently on top of the side-by-side slumbering having completed

Seemingly having completed his mission, he leaps off the porch and back down to the street. He begins to sprint away, but stops, and turns around once more to catch one last glimpse of the orphans he deposited on the porch. His blond hair catches the light of a streetlamp, and casts shadows across his icy somber blue eyes and the scar running through one of them. He says two simple words, yet pours his heart and soul into his last message to them.

"I'm sorry..."

* * *

 **Me: Funnily enough, I actually finished this chapter within a couple of days from the first one, but I forgot to post it. Eheheh...Sorry**

 **Me: But seriously? You thought I would make Luke the bad guy? I dropped hints that he was not in his right state of mind. Please don't think so low of me as to believe I would villainize Luke Castellan.**

 **Me: That being said, that's the end of this story. It's short, but I hope I did a good job. Please leave a review! Also, I was thinking if enough people ask, I might write a little bit about the Jackson daughters. Who knows? Feel free to guess at their names though, despite the fact that I've already chosen their names and the stories behind them. If you haven't noticed, I like asking my readers questions.**


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